Reflection: A Twisted Tale Read online

  Her hug caught ShiShi off guard. “Careful with the mane.” He made a face and shook his hair until Mulan had to back away. “It’s still in shreds after what you did to it.”

  “Sorry.”

  “How did you escape the demons?” Shang asked.

  “Hmph. Those squirrels are no match for a great stone lion such as myself.” ShiShi squared his shoulders proudly. “Oh, there were hundreds of them, maybe thousands, even—”

  Shang raised an eyebrow. “Thousands?”

  “Fine. A hundred. Don’t interrupt. A lion always lands on his feet. And when I did, I ripped their spears apart with my jaws and roared my mightiest roar! Most of them ran away after that. Then I chased the rest around the Mountain of Knives until there was nowhere to go. Those gloating fools thought they had me, but I spied a portal underneath one of the knives. It led me here, to level fifty-one.”

  Level fifty-one, Mulan thought. Still a long way to go.

  ShiShi’s tail swirled behind him as he circled Mulan and Shang. “I must say, I’m surprised to see you two loitering about. Why are you still here? I told you to hurry. This area is rife with ghosts.”

  “We didn’t see any,” she insisted. “How did you—”

  “That’s odd,” the lion guardian interrupted. “I could have sworn that I’ve heard that many ghosts amass just below this mountain.”

  Mulan froze, hearing the whispers now. They were faint, but getting closer. And worse, there were many of them.

  “What was that sound?” came whispers from the knives. “It sounded like a lion.”

  An angry voice. “It woke me.”

  “It’s the outsider.”

  “The outsider?”

  “The boy with no name.”

  “Find him! Tell the others.”

  The ghosts glided up the mountain, their movement causing a gust in the air and making the knives whistle. A chorus of harsh squeaks and shrieks ripped the air.

  Unlike the ones Mulan had encountered on the Bridge of Helplessness, these ghosts looked dangerous. And angry. A few were decapitated and carried their heads under their arms; others were missing eyes and fingers and teeth. Their auras were all varying shades of red.

  Mulan, Shang, and ShiShi backed up onto the grass, but it was too late. Before they could get any farther, a band of ghosts blocked their path.

  “The outsider from the real world,” rasped one of the bandit ghosts. He grinned at Mulan, revealing his missing front teeth. “I heard about him. He crossed the bridge. He wouldn’t heed the warnings.”

  Another bandit ghost appeared. His belt was lined with a dozen knives, and he was missing his fourth finger and left eye. “You know what we do to those who don’t heed our warning.”

  “Call the others. Tell them we found the trespasser.”

  Laughter. It rang across the knives, bouncing off them like bells that chimed far, far into the distance while also sinking into Mulan’s bones. The ghosts scattered across the mountain, retrieving their knives and daggers.

  “Ah, my blade hasn’t sung with the flesh of a mortal man since I was alive,” one said, sharpening his knives against each other.

  “Don’t run, outsider. We’ll make you one of us in due time.”

  The ghosts laughed. As they crowded together, blood and death singing in their hollow eyes, a pang of dread sharpened in the pit of Mulan’s stomach.

  “Bandits and murderers,” Mulan murmured, repeating ShiShi’s warning.

  And just her luck, they were all after her.

  There was nowhere to run. The bandit ghosts surrounded them on every side. Even if Mulan decided to fling herself off the cliff, the Mountain of Knives waited below. They couldn’t fight, either—only Shang could intercept the ghosts. Mulan’s sword and ShiShi’s claws would go right through them.

  Whispers still echoed from the knives, word rapidly spreading across Diyu that the “outsider from the real world” had climbed the Mountain of the Knives.

  Mulan clenched her jaw. More ghosts flooded the plains, arriving in whirlwinds of pale, glowing reds, yellows, oranges, and greens. The newly arrived ghosts weren’t bandits or murderers tied to the Mountain of Knives. Most were dressed like ordinary citizens. They’d come to witness the spectacle of a mortal making his way up Diyu.

  A ghost with iron-rimmed spectacles landed on the grass. Mulan recognized him immediately as one of the ghosts who’d been on the Bridge of Helplessness—the one with the orange aura who’d warned her that he and the others would be watching. Jiao.

  Jiao carried a scroll under his arm, and his ghostly fingers were stained with ink. He reminded her of Chi Fu, except without the long whiskers.

  Behind his spectacles, the ghost’s beady black eyes narrowed at her. “We heard about what happened with your meeting with King Yama. You should never have crossed the bridge, outsider.”

  The others ghosts agreed. “You’ll never get out now.”

  Widening her stance, Mulan reached for the ancient sword at her side and unwrapped it. She raised it at the ghosts. “Leave us alone.”

  ShiShi leapt forward to address the ghosts. He bared his sharp teeth as he said, “The boy here has an agreement with King Yama. Let us pass.”

  “I was there,” screeched one of the ghosts. “He cut the line!”

  “I heard what King Yama said,” another chimed in. “King Yama never promised that we couldn’t interfere.”

  “It isn’t fair that an outsider is in Diyu,” another ghost murmured. “It isn’t fair he gets to see what awaits him in the afterlife.”

  “He must die.”

  “We’ll take him to the river.”

  “You will do no such thing,” ShiShi bellowed. “Anyone who wishes to harm Ping will have to go through me.”

  The ghosts scoffed and did just that. They passed through ShiShi, and the poor lion guardian looked as if he were going to be ill. His fur paled and stood up, and he shuddered.

  Shang stepped in front of Mulan, but she shook her head. “Let me deal with this.”

  Mulan faced the ghosts with her sword at her side. “I understand you’re all upset with me, but I’m here only to—”

  “We don’t care why you’re here.” The ghosts lunged. “No mortals allowed!”

  As Mulan instinctively raised her blade to block them, a white, pearlescent light emanated from the sword, so bright the ghosts shrank away.

  Mulan blinked, unsure of where the sword’s power had come from. She glanced at ShiShi, but he simply lifted his chin to encourage her. Shang did the same with a nod.

  “No sword can harm us,” Jiao reminded the others. He sneered. “We’re already dead.”

  At that, Mulan tilted forward. A mischievous grin spread across her face, and the ghosts squirmed. “If that’s true, why are you all so afraid of it?”

  One of the bandit ghosts sharpened his knife across his belt and twirled it from finger to finger. “I’ll deal with the boy.”

  Mulan arced her sword at him before he dared come close. The ghost leapt back, seeing she had cut through his belt and scratched his arm. His aura flashed a bright, burning red. “What in the—That’s impossible.” He wiped the blood from his skin. It shimmered like the rest of him. “That’s no ordinary sword.”

  Commotion ensued as the bandits argued over who would attack her next. Mulan inched away, disappearing behind a throng of green-glowing ghosts. They were calmer than the bandits; they hardly noticed her.

  She exhaled, wondering whether she should be thankful the ghosts were so disorganized. There had to be thousands of them here, laughing and gossiping as if this were the site of a village reunion. Most of them floated in the air, completely unaware of Mulan’s presence. Now if only she could get Shang and ShiShi out of here.

  “It’s been so long since I’ve seen you. Are you staying in Youdu?”

  “Not yet. Hopefully in the next century or two. I hear property there has gotten expensive.”

  “It has. There’s a war in the living
world. Lots of soldiers keep arriving. Some of them are too young to have committed any crimes, so Yama doesn’t sentence them with any torture. They go straight to the City of the Dead. Youdu’s getting so crowded. I think there’s a batch of us scheduled for Heaven later this week, though.”

  “Is that the mortal down there? He looks a little like my younger brother.”

  “Poor thing. No way he’s getting out of here alive.”

  “Unless someone decides to help him.” The ghosts looked at each other and laughed. “Not us!”

  Mulan stopped listening to the conversation. There are so many ghosts here—some look like they’ve been here for centuries. She glanced around. I wonder if any of them might be related to me. Grandmother Fa always said to respect my ancestors…for if I needed help in Diyu, they would come. She never said I needed to be a ghost myself.

  “The mortal’s down here!” one of the floating ghosts shouted. “Come get him!”

  “Call for your ancestors,” Mulan told Shang as the bandits headed their way. “Maybe they can help us.”

  “Ancestors?” ShiShi blubbered. “Why would we—”

  “Good thinking, Ping,” said Shang. He began to yell, “Is anyone here of the Li family? I need your help!”

  “Is anyone here of the Fa family?” Mulan shouted, slipping through another crowd of ghosts. “I belong to the Fa family!”

  The bandits surrounded her. “Appealing to your ancestors won’t help you, outsider.” The ghost without teeth sneered. “Now be brave, soldier. It won’t hurt. And you’ll get to skip standing in King Yama’s line. Again.”

  Shang opened his arms. “You won’t touch him.”

  “Step aside, Captain.” The bandit ghost cocked his head. “This isn’t your battle to fight. My quarrel isn’t with you.”

  “Yes,” warned the ghost’s colleague. “You’re about to be reincarnated, so I wouldn’t taint your soul with bloodshed.”

  Shang lunged. “You want to fight Ping, then you fight me, too.”

  “You can’t kill me, boy. I’m already a ghost.”

  “Is anyone here of the Fa family?” Mulan shouted one last time. “I belong to the Fa family!”

  “We are of the Fa family!” a shrill voice hollered back.

  Mulan’s ears perked, searching for the ghost that’d spoken.

  “Don’t touch the boy, you thugs! He belongs to our family!”

  To Mulan’s surprise, the bandits actually hesitated—and the ghost who’d shouted was a young woman, pushing her way through the crowd. Two men followed her, and Mulan assumed they were also her ancestors.

  “Fa Mei, what do you think you’re doing?” said the thin ghost tailing Mulan’s ancestor. “Stay quiet!”

  “We should help him,” Fa Mei said. Her black hair fell to her waist, knotted into a simple braid adorned with white jasmine flowers. Rouge painted her lips, and her skin was lightly powdered white as parchment. Without all that makeup, she might have resembled Mulan.

  “I agree,” said the second ghost with Fa Mei. “We should help him. He’s family.”

  “Uncles! Auntie!” Mulan cried, calling for the three approaching ghosts. “Please help. It’s me, Fa…” Her voice faltered. She couldn’t say Fa Mulan. “Fa Zhou’s son.”

  “Get out of the way,” Fa Mei said, fluttering the bandits to the side. “This is family business. You know the rules.…You don’t interfere with family business.”

  The bandits glared at Mulan, but they backed away—a little.

  Mulan’s three ancestors straightened. Now that they were closer, Mulan could make out their appearances better. Fa Mei was a young woman dressed in expensive silks, and next to her was an elderly man who was rather rotund and a bald man with a cane who slightly resembled her father. They flew to Mulan’s side.

  “Fa Zhou’s son, did you say?”

  “Yes,” Mulan gasped. “Please help us get out of here.”

  The bald ghost stroked his chin. “I think we should help, Liwei. What do you think?”

  “The boy’s an outsider, Ren. We can’t trust him.”

  “We don’t even know why he’s here.”

  “He won’t be an outsider for long if you leave him like this,” ShiShi snapped at the ancestors. “He’ll be dead.”

  “Help us,” Shang said.

  Fa Liwei, the older ghost, steepled his thick fingers. “Prove that you’re family, first.”

  Mulan let out an exasperated sigh. “I already told you I am.”

  “If you’re really family, you should have brought a gift.”

  “Gossip’s like money hereabouts,” Fa Mei said in a singsong voice. “Everyone’s dying for some news.”

  That made little sense to Mulan, but she nodded as if she understood. Gossip never failed to interest the ghosts, she remembered the demon guards telling her. “I can tell you what’s happening with the Fa family right now.”

  “And why King Yama can’t find you in the record books?” Ren added. The bald ghost patted the small bulge in his robe’s left pocket.

  Shang tossed Mulan a sidelong glance. A question perched on his lips.

  Mulan frowned. No, she couldn’t tell them that. “Why don’t I tell about why I’m here instead? Like the other ghosts say, it’s not every day a mortal comes to Diyu.”

  Her ancestors made a face. “It’s a start. All right, we’ll get you out of here.”

  “Leave it to me,” said Mei. She floated toward the bandits and wagged her fan at them. “You bullies leave my cousin alone,” she said shrilly. “We’ll deal with him. He’s family, after all.”

  The toothless bandit frowned. “But he’s an outsider.”

  “And King Yama let him stay,” Mei retorted. “If you want Yama to be mad at you, keep threatening to throw the boy into the river.”

  The bandits lunged at Mulan anyway, but she countered their attack with her sword. Metal clashed against metal, and a piercing scrape stung the air. With two rapid thrusts, Mulan surprised even herself to see she’d disarmed the ghosts. Their knives clattered at their sides—in pieces.

  The bandits backed off, thunderstruck. “You got lucky, outsider.”

  “We’ll be watching you.”

  Then they plunged down the Mountain of Knives until they were out of sight.

  “What are you all looking at?” Liwei barked at the other ghosts. “Go home. The family reunion is over.”

  The ghosts grumbled, and some spat on the ground. But to Mulan’s relief, they listened. Away they floated, the majority of them zipping down deeper into Diyu. Jiao, the ghost with the spectacles, was the last to leave. His thin face sagged with disappointment as he watched the bandits retreat to the Mountain of Knives. He sent Mulan a glare, one that promised this wasn’t the end.

  She ignored him and turned to Mei, Liwei, and Ren. “Honorable ancestors, thank you for helping us.”

  “That was a magnificent display of skill,” Mei purred. “It’s our honor to help family.”

  Liwei wasn’t as impressed. “That is, if you really are family.” He hovered around Mulan, examining her as if she were a caterpillar in a jar. “There haven’t been many deaths in the Fa family recently, so my news is years out of date, but I seem to recall Fa Zhou only had that little g—”

  Mulan cleared her throat. “Let’s talk on the road,” she said in her best, manliest tone. “Honorable ancestors, I appreciate the chance to speak with you—but Captain Li Shang, his guardian, and I are in a hurry. We need to reach the Gates of Diyu before sunrise so we may return to the living world.”

  “Sunrise?” Mei exclaimed. “You should have told us that earlier. You won’t make it to the top before sunrise.” She pulled her hair apart and began to rebraid it. “You might as well stay here with your family and chat.”

  Mulan frowned. “I thought you could help us.”

  Ren pressed his hands together, looking serene. His robe was worn and tattered; if Mulan were to guess, he’d been a monk while he was alive. But what was a mo
nk doing in the depths of Diyu?

  “There’s a shortcut,” he said. “I’ll show it to you.”

  The other ancestors glanced at him. “Ren, are you sure that’s a good idea?”

  “Of course.” Ren waved off their concerns with bravado.

  “What is it?” Shang said.

  “Liwei and Mei are simply worried because you’ll have to pass through a few of Diyu’s…unsavory parts.”

  “Unsavory?” Shang repeated.

  Fa Mei smiled at Shang in a way that made Mulan uncomfortable. “We are in the Underworld, Captain. You didn’t think King Yama would make it easy for you, did you?”

  Shang squared his shoulders. “He’s not going to win.” He shot Mulan a determined yet grateful look. “Ping isn’t going to have to stay.”

  “That’s not what all the other ghosts think.”

  “Enough banter,” said Ren, lifting his cane. “Follow me. Quickly, before the bandits change their minds.”

  Mulan, Shang, and ShiShi hurried after Ren. The ghost seemed to take their time constraint seriously, for he barreled across the land, moving far quicker than someone with a cane ought to.

  Then again, he was a ghost.

  “Where are we going?” Mulan asked. Beyond the plains, there wasn’t much other than a tight cluster of hills; they leaned against each other like sand dunes, so closely knit they choked any view of the horizon. “We need to go up.”

  “I know. Patience, young Ping. You’ll see.”

  Mulan breathed a sigh and followed. They’d need all the help they could get if they were going to get out of here before sunrise. Their time was already halfway up: the moon was half-bright, half-dark against the velvety sky.

  “Isn’t it beautiful?” Mei asked, catching Mulan staring. “Even though living in the Underworld can sometimes be a chore, the view of the moon here’s better than anywhere you’ll find in the real world.”

  Mulan couldn’t disagree.

  “Don’t lag behind,” Liwei said, pushing past Mei. “That goes for you, too, boy with no name.”

  “Why do they keep calling you that?” Shang asked, following at her side.

  “Um, wh-why?” Mulan stuttered. “Beats me.”

  “It’s strange your ancestors are treating you so badly, Ping. Those two, Liwei and Mei”—he gestured at the ghosts, who were clearly whispering about Mulan together—“they don’t seem to want to help you.”